


There Is No Vacation; There Is War

by You did not see me here (Hollowed_Ground)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 'cause The Force, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't worry he gets better, Fugue-State Zuko, Gen, Medical Inaccuracies, Past Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Reincarnation, Star Wars takes place in a different universe from AtLA, The Force is a good parent, bending is not The Force, demigod Anakin Skywalker, fluff and angst[?], half-Force Anakin, half-spirit Zuko, hints of canon ships, or at least it tries, people keep mistaking Zuko for the Avatar, set in the AtLA-verse, zuko joins the gaang early
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollowed_Ground/pseuds/You%20did%20not%20see%20me%20here
Summary: PRINCE ZUKO has encountered an error and failed to load.  What do you want to do?Retry→Restore from a previous versionReset to default settings(After the Agni Kai, Zuko enters a fugue state in which he thinks he's someone named "Anakin Skywalker".  This has its drawbacks and benefits for everyone, Zuko included.  After all: why would Anakin want to go back to the Fire Nation?  Or capture the Avatar?  Why should he care what this "Fire Lord Ozai" thinks?  Isn't it his own duty to restore balance?)less humorous summary: That Agni Kai is quite the traumatic event, and kind of breaks Zuko.  So, his mind/soul reverts to a previous life more used to trauma.  Unfortunately for the AtLA world, that version is Anakin Skywalker.  May Agni have mercy on everyone.Well, at least he should have an easier time earning his crew's respect.  And can sympathise with Aang.  And, hey, this is totally the soul-healing retreat The Force signed him up for.  Kind of.In which Zuko is Anakin reincarnated, Uncle Iroh is Obi-wan reincarnated, and Luke is tagging along after two of his favourite people in the galaxy Because He Can.  (Star Wars takes place in a different universe in this fic)
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Luke Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker & The Gaang, Anakin Skywalker & Zuko's Crew, Iroh & Anakin Skywalker, Iroh & Luke Skywalker, Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Luke Skywalker & Zuko, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Luke Skywalker, Roku & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Zuko & Zuko's Crew (Avatar), minor Mai/Zuko - Relationship
Comments: 25
Kudos: 64





	1. 0: Banishment's Not That Bad

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, I see. You know, I swore that I'd never do another AtLA fic. (Maybe you didn't know that.) Yet, here I am.  
> Clearly, these promises I make as regards my fics can none of them be trusted. I'll just try and prod this away from super-angst territory. I owe everyone that much.  
> The thing is...I don't even _like_ Avatar. Not really. I mean, I don't _hate_ it, but....  
> Why am I writing fanfic of it?

He awoke to a pain so great that he had to wonder how he had fallen asleep at all. The only conclusion that he could come to was that he had lost consciousness from the shock. There was an entire half of his face that burnt like the lava banks of Mustafar, after all. The heat was more sweltering than the sand of Tatooine, and he'd once thought that that was more powerful than any other heat.

Now how had he come to be here? He kept his eyes closed as he directed healing energy towards the left side of his face, where the oppressive heat lay. He had in life always taken care not to overpower even his healing abilities. Not until after he'd Fallen, and healing was beyond his reach, had he managed to bypass whatever subconscious demands had limited his powers until then. The Force was quick to respond to his request, sending soothing cool into that side of his face to go with a feeling, the sense of receding heat as the area began to heal.

His _eye_ —his left eye—it was injured again. He thought of Ventress, and internally frowned. He isolated the area of his eye and ear and focused his healing intent in that direction. The Force happily obliged him.

How was this happening? He should be _dead_.

There was a sort of gentle motion, an almost rocking, below him. Or perhaps all about him, a clue that he was in…what were they called? A _boat_. How strange.

He should be dead. Why would he be on a boat? Why would he be anywhere at all?

_A chance to rest. To recover. To mend old wounds, of body and of mind. And when you are healed, you will return home to those who could not follow you._

Those were not words that he'd ever heard spoken. It was more a sense—the intention clear behind actions that The Force had taken, sending him from his own familiar galaxy across to a universe of different rules. The Force remained with him, however. It was too intrinsic a part of him to be left behind. It was his parent—his father, to the extent that he had a biological father. (Obi-wan was his father sort of. Surrogate father. Surrogate brother.)

He had died, and The Force had sent him to become himself again, elsewhere, free of the constraints imposed upon him back home. Free of the steady drip of poison of a vastness corrupted by Palpatine. Free of memory, until now.

He was not completely strange to the idea of boats. Water had ceased to be a marvel to him. He'd even learnt how to swim. Did he know them well enough to be sure that he was on a boat without opening his eyes?

And—

The Force his father had given him a new body. A new…life? A new identity? He must at least have a new body. One that had arms and legs and eyes and ears that could burn. He could feel flesh and blood attached to his shoulder, his pelvis, his knees, his elbows, his ankles, his wrists. All of it organic.

Lungs. Vocal cords. Even hair. He could feel it. Was he even Anakin Skywalker anymore?

Of course he was. But was he?

The rocking of the maybe-boat served to soothe him. He reached out, eyes still closed, body still, feigning sleep. He reached out with The Force and not his hands, felt a presence nearby. A familiar presence, somewhat changed. It did not respond to him in kind, as it once would have. Was that because it did not know him? Or had it forgotten how to sense him?

Obi-wan.

He could not help the grimace of pain that came with the thought. Family of closer kin than flesh and blood, for there was never one to serve that same role.

Obi-wan.

_Do you know me?_

"You are awake, Nephew," said a strange, unfamiliar voice, from Obi-wan's vicinity. "Have some soothing tea. It will help with the pain."

Some tea. Have some tea, Anakin. Tea can fix anything.

He opened his eyes. He was alone in a metal room full of truly strange decorations, including a pair of crossed…swords? on the wall. He thought that they were swords. He didn't have much acquaintance with such primitive weaponry.

He was alone.

Except for the old man with the weird Zygerrian hairstyle sitting at his bedside, sipping tea. He wore red, matching the decor of the room. It must have some sort of significance. But when he thought of red, he thought of red lightsabers cutting off hands and arms and ending the lives of countless innocents.

He swallowed. That did not hurt as much as he'd half-expected it to.

The old man was in about the same place as he'd pegged Obi-wan to be. He was drinking tea. But he had called Anakin "Nephew". There was really no one else who could have been being addressed.

"Are you talking to me?" he blurted, regardless. It made him try, for a fleeting instant, to pin himself down to a specific point in his life. Redeemed sith lord? Sith lord? Jedi general? Padawan? Master? Slave?

If you mashed them together, and then spread the mess that resulted out, that would be what he was. He concluded this in an instant, giving it only half the attention that it deserved as he waited for Obi-wan's response.

Old man not-quite-Obi-wan looked alarmed for a moment, before that shrewd impassivity fell back over his face. He reached out to feel for a fever, his hands gentle.

"Ah," he said, seeming to find one. "Are you having some trouble hearing out of your ear, Nephew? The healers did say that the damage might harm your eyesight and hearing."

Anakin huffed. If you start a thing, he'd always lived by the philosophy that you should finish it.

"Who are you? You think you're my uncle?" he asked, reaching up to feel at his head as he was now highly aware of the fact that he could only see out of one eye. What with how the other was covered in cloth or gauze, and all. He sat up as he reached for his temple, considering peeling away the gauze to see the damage.

Not-quite-Obi-wan dropped his teacup. He did not seem terribly distressed over burning his own feet. Then again, perhaps whatever shoes those were that he was wearing were insulated against heat.

Anakin poked at the remnants of their training bond, just to be sure that this old man was really Obi-wan. He didn't even flinch, but the bond ended where the old man sat. He couldn't have _eaten_ Obi-wan. That wasn't how this whole deal worked.

"Nephew," the old man said, hesitant. "Do you remember anything?"

Anakin blinked at him dumbly. "Remember what?" he asked. He finally noticed how strange his voice was, sort of scratchy and hoarse and…somehow young-sounding?

He looked down at pale white long-fingered hands as the man dimmed in The Force.

"Oh, _Nephew_ ," he said, with heartrending grief.

Anakin felt a sort of answering grief, that keen sense that he'd once again done something wrong coupled with the knowledge that his suffering had caused Obi-wan grief. There's a sort of warm melancholy about that.

"What am I supposed to be remembering, Obi-wan?" The name slipped out, unbidden. He was not trying to tease. He was baffled.

The old man visibly ignored the way his "nephew" addressed him. He took a breath. Anakin noticed the way that his hands shook, the way his face fell into a million worry-wrinkles. Whoever this nephew was (it must have been he), he must have caused Obi-wan such grief—

"Prince Zuko," the old man said, and in a way that Anakin couldn't decipher. It might have been the answer to Anakin's latest question. It might have been the old man addressing Anakin. Probably not that one, though, as he'd been calling Anakin "Nephew" exclusively. Although…that couldn't be the boy's _name_ …could it?

Anakin could feel a headache coming on. No doubt exacerbated by whatever the kriff had happened to his karking _head_.

No. He was somehow positive. "Nephew" wasn't his _name_ , it was the name of their relationship. Uncle to nephew.

Who was "Prince Zuko", and what was Anakin supposed to remember about him?

But, he waited too long. Uncle Old Man looked to be on the verge of tears. He slumped in his seat.

"Don't you even remember who you are? Or who I am?"

Maybe it _was_ supposed to be his name?

"I'm Anakin Skywalker," he heard himself say as he was trying to decide what to say. "You're Obi-wan Kenobi."

This seemed to settle something. Uncle Old Man reached a conclusion.

" _You_ are Prince Zuko. Son of Fire Lord Ozai and Princess Ursa. You are my nephew. I am Prince Iroh, your uncle, your father's brother. Come back to your senses, Zuko!"

He seemed to realise that this was a vain wish, an order that couldn't be fulfilled. Whatever had happened to "Zuko" was beyond Anakin's control.

Meanwhile, despite the headache and trauma, Anakin distilled all this new information as he received it. He was supposed to be Zuko, a prince(!), son of something called a "Fire Lord". Maybe that explained the symbol on the decorations hanging about the room—they did look a bit like stylised flames.

And this old man was named "Iroh", and he was a blood relation (at _last_ )—the brother of his father. He had never had a father before, unless you counted The Force. Or Obi-wan, who was far closer to being the thing.

He wondered what it was like, to grow up with a biological father. But some corner of his mind, something that knew better, shied away from thinking of it too hard.

And a mother! Another mother! She couldn't be as wonderful as _Mom_ , as Shmi, but he still wished he had any memories of her—this _Ursa_. What was a mother who was also royalty like? What sort of mother would _Padmé_ have made?

It was difficult to be eager or excited about anything with Obi-wan's grief pouring down on him. In another place and time, Anakin would have made a clever quip about _Shielding, Master_ , but this was neither then nor there.

He fisted his hands in his bedsheets instead, turning to face…his uncle. "I don't remember any of it. I'm sorry. Where am I? What happened to my head?"

Time to get answers to the important questions.

***

He was lucky that his uncle had encountered situations like his before. He'd once been a general in charge of an army. He'd seen it happen before—not very often, but after highly traumatic events, which wars were filled with. The mind couldn't handle the strain of the experience, and created a new identity for itself. Sometimes, those were even old identities from previous lives.

It was an educational, humbling experience. Something that Iroh, always eager to learn new things under ordinary circumstances, would find fascinating were it anyone other than his beloved nephew who was undergoing this, now.

He was lucky. Anakin had dismissed Iroh as a threat for two subconscious reasons. The first was the more immediately apparent one—namely, that Iroh had taken pains to appear as if he were a harmless, doddering old fool.

The second reason was that he was Obi-wan, and Obi-wan Would Never Hurt Him. Somehow, perhaps because Anakin was a long smear of all his years of being himself, Obi-wan had retained this status despite, you know, cutting off his remaining limbs and leaving him to burn on the bank of a molten river of lava. And possibly indoctrinating Anakin's own son to killing him.

And _now_ Iroh broke down crying. He reached behind him to a tea service with two cups of forgotten tea, and a kettle, and a rolled up cylinder that Uncle Iroh unrolled to look at.

"You fought an Agni Kai—a Duel of Honour—against your father, Fire Lord Ozai. He was the one to burn your face. And…and in this scroll, he has banished you. It states that you can return only if you capture the Avatar, and return him to the Fire Nation."

Anakin reached out for the scroll, and Iroh handed it over without feeling the need for further explanation, but Anakin's eyebrow rose at the mention of a new term.

 _Fire Nation_ was probably somehow the oh-so-original name of the place that the "Fire Lord" ruled. But what the karking hell was the "Avatar"?

"What's the Avatar?" he blurted out, again, as he read over the scroll to confirm what Iroh said.

Yep. He officially had no father. The Force, despite its hands-off parenting approach, was still a better parent than this Ozai bastard. He wondered if Zuko had considered Iroh his surrogate father. He had a certain warm suspicion that he had. A memory?

 _You will fight for your honour_ , said a horrible cold growl of a voice. Anakin flinched and nearly dropped the scroll. He thought that the only voices he'd ever heard of that could rival that one for sheer horribleness were Palpatine's, and… _Vader's_.

 _You will learn respect…and suffering will be your teacher._ And white-hot pain.

He reached up to touch his face gently. The Force continued to pool particularly around his ear and eye.

He glanced back down at the scroll. It confirmed what Uncle Iroh had said. He was banished, and stripped of his honour and title as Crown Prince until such time as he found and returned the Avatar into captivity in the Fire Nation.

He listened to Uncle Iroh's explanation of what the Avatar was as he stared at the scroll, trying to decide what he thought about it.

Master of all four elements…bridge to the spirit world…born to restore _balance_ between the four nations.

Sounded a lot like Anakin himself. But that was not his responsibility. Not here. Still, he couldn't help a certain fellow feeling that arose within him at the description of this old soul's responsibilities. The last thing this man needed was for Anakin to add the pressure of being hunted down for extermination to his burdens.

He made an executive, strategic decision. Fatherlord Ozai was afraid of the Avatar. Probably the Fire Nation had done something wrong under his rule, and he thought that the Avatar would stop him. So Anakin was going to find the Avatar and help him defeat Ozai.

Would Iroh be behind that? Obi-wan would have trusted him.

"Do you love me, Uncle?" he asked. It was just about the stupidest thing he'd said all day. And it was very much not the sort of thing he was used to saying. It just sort of slipped out, as so many of the things he'd said thus far today had.

He felt the familiar sense of safety and warmth that he associated with Obi-wan. (How had he ever thought that Obi-wan had betrayed him? How?)

"Enough to go against your brother?"

"He lost my loyalty the moment he harmed you, Prince Zuko. You are like a son to me. After Lu Ten died—"

A flare of white-hot pain. The fleeting image of an older boy, charming and charismatic as only a Negotiator's son could be. As only Obi-wan and Satine's child could be. Theirs. Anakin knew it in his bones.

Lu Ten.

His cousin.

"Even though I'm not Zuko anymore?" Anakin asked in a whisper. It seemed vital to ask.

"You _are_ Prince Zuko, Nephew," Iroh insisted. His voice was so forceful that even Anakin believed him.

What did Iroh see, when he looked at him?

"And if I said that instead of capturing the Avatar, I'd help him to defeat my father?"

A pause. "Then, I think that we should make sure the crew can be trusted with this new task. They should not be forced into committing treason. That would only lead to mutiny." How well he knew that! "And you must relearn firebending if you are to stand a chance of surviving, on the high seas."

Unshakable faith and devotion. Unconditional love.

Anakin drank it in. Then, he grinned, a softer grin than Ahsoka or Luke or Obi-wan were used to. Strangely soft.

"Then, let's get started."


	2. 1: He Can't Fix Everything, But He Can Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Crew of The Wani meet Zuko. They decide they like this rather odd royal.

General-Prince Iroh, the great Dragon of the West, son of Fire Lord Azulon, brother of Fire Lord Ozai, had seen quite a bit in his lifetime. He'd _done_ quite a bit in his lifetime. And yet, somehow, what was happening now was not something he'd ever anticipated happening. Ever. Although, perhaps, he should have.

He had never yet met a healer who understood exactly how it worked, why it was that some people entered this odd state of delusion where they thought they were something or someone else. They'd previously narrowed it down to being caused by extreme physical and emotional trauma, and then chalked the rest up to the whims of the Spirits. So, because he'd only ever seen it happen in soldiers, it was not something he'd thought of as a possible outcome of the Agni Kai.

How narrow-minded of him! Was there greater mental, emotional, and physical trauma to be had than having half your face burnt off in a Duel of Honour by your own father?! And, as a descendant of Avatar Roku, it was _entirely_ possible that Zuko was prime material for spirit influence—hadn't Iroh assumed that, even?

He'd always loved Prince Zuko like a son (the boy needed it), but he'd almost thought there was a reason that the spirits had seen fit to send Zuko off on this quest, and he'd come along. He'd come along on this trip to train Prince Zuko, knowing that there must be _some_ destiny he had to fulfil, as the descendant of the previous avatar. Believed that perhaps he could find him when all the others had failed.

But this had come out of nowhere. He hadn't anticipated it. He'd heard that most of those who'd previously entered states of delusion had recovered—when they'd lived long enough—and that the amnesia and delirium were both temporary. This made it difficult to know just what to tell Zuko's crew. It was a mercy that they'd not had a chance to meet Zuko yet. They had no expectations of his behaviour.

(It still hurt, remembering how Zuko had slowly succumbed to anger and frustration—how to please his father he'd turned himself into something he'd never been meant to be.)

It was important to be upfront and direct about what was going on. It was also important to ground Prince Zuko by calling him by that name. It would be an anchor to his past. Of course, this was all speculation. No one knew what caused this, and no one knew what made soldiers recover from it. There might not be anything he could do.

It was vital to make Zuko feel that he was in control of his own destiny. He was in charge of this expedition, and, even incapacitated, Iroh meant to see to it that he knew that he was listened to. That he was _heard_. That he had a voice. That he _deserved_ a voice.

He explained to Zuko what he was going to do. He told him before he went up on deck that he was going to explain this new situation to Zuko's crew, and that if Zuko was in any pain, he should drink some tea.

He did not miss the smile full of fond exasperation as he glanced at his nephew sidelong whilst reheating the tea for Zuko. On an ordinary day, in ordinary circumstances, Zuko could do that himself. But…he had forgotten all about bending. He would have to return to the basics. Which was just as well, as his tutors had clearly done a poor job of teaching him to begin with, if Zuko had so little faith in his own skills.

Lieutenant Jee had been in the military for quite some time, but he served in the navy, and therefore saw direct, pitched combat less often. He had never encountered Prince Zuko's malady before. However, he had heard of and well-respected the Dragon of the West, the personable General-Prince Iroh. If he said that the Crown Prince had lost his memory and had for some reason convinced himself that he was someone else due to wartime trauma, then Jee would try to believe it. He had no prior acquaintance with the prince, anyway—only rumour that said he was a brat and exactly what you would expect from growing up in luxury.

All the soldiers on the ship could be prevailed upon to give this new Zuko a chance. None of them knew the old one.

But that wasn't the only hurdle Zuko had set Iroh to. The next task would be more difficult. He decided to wait until the crew knew Zuko better and had greater cohesion before he told them. They did not anticipate encountering the Avatar anytime soon, after all.

It is never easy to figure out whom amongst your fellows would be willing to help you commit treason without ratting you out. The ship was a closed room. If necessary, although he did not relish the thought, he was willing to kill his own men to ensure his nephew's safety. It was a shame that he'd had to gather this crew on short notice. He'd done his best to choose those he felt would be most trustworthy and loyal. But most of the truly devoted soldiers were off overseas fighting in the war.

Perhaps that served him. Perhaps being "reduced" to choosing primarily from "the dregs" of the military meant he might have hit on those with experience—age and world-weariness instead of the bright-eyed eagerness of youth—disillusioned with the glory of war, craving for an _end_ to the endless battles. And stubborn, rebellious, incorrigible young men who might be up to a bit of well-intentioned treason.

Not everyone would be persuaded. There was no unit cohesion to ensure that outliers stayed in line. He would have to be careful and interview these men one at a time.

Lieutenant Jee first. "If I could have a moment of your time, Lieutenant?" he asked, approaching him on the deck. "I would like to speak to you in private concerning my nephew…."

***

Anakin was laid out on the bed for another two weeks. He didn't know how long his injuries were supposed to take to heal.

The one great experience he might have had with healing burns had been denied him. Palpatine had shoved him into that suit and had done with it. They were left untreated, for the most part, and had definitely never been healed. The Dark Side did not lend itself to healing wounds. He'd recovered from Ventress's lightsaber blow, but that was shallower, and…well, not really a _burn_ , the way this was.

Beneath the bandages, The Force outdid itself in helping him to recover. It saved his eyesight and his hearing. It healed as much as it could. A suspicious amount, but Anakin couldn't see it. He didn't know he'd done anything that strange. He didn't know anything about the world yet. Just that Uncle Iroh had promised to help train him to relearn firebending when he was better.

Anakin Skywalker was not known for his patience. He was not known for his ability to sit idle. But Vader had had to, more often than he'd liked.

Thus, he obeyed all of the orders he was given. When in pain, he drank the tea. There were some sort of medicinal herbs that dulled the pain.

(Maybe he deserved the pain. Think of what he'd done!)

(But not in this world? What crimes had Zuko committed that warranted being tortured by the hands of his own father?)

He stayed put. He didn't unwrap the bandages. He glared at the scroll that symbolised his banishment, but without any real heat. He did not miss the Fire Nation. He did not remember the Fire Nation.

He spent most of his time in meditation. It could not be denied that he had never been very good with meditation. It could also not be denied that he'd needed it, especially as Vader. It had been the closest he'd come to calm and comfort and security.

When he meditated now, candles danced in sympathy with his breath. They seemed to be pointing the way to proper breathing. He watched them from a wary distance.

Firebending. Because Mustafar wasn't enough. Granted that he'd built a fortress there, but that was _because_ it was steeped in his own suffering, not _despite_ it.

It made him aware of a sort of second chamber in his spirit, full of fire and heat.

He was used to the bright fire/light that was his own Force presence, often compared to a star going supernova by those staggered by its intensity. That was still there, a mellow comfort at the periphery of his—connection to the Force.

But now, there was something else, too, a well of fire, located a bit sideways of that, as if in some fifth dimension. While his Force sensitivity reached out eagerly for anything familiar (and kept latching onto Uncle Iroh, because he'd once been Obi-wan), almost frantic, this second set of abilities reached upwards for the sun, and then just sort of…dotted into place wherever there was heat, especially if there was also fire. He could reach out for that heat with a disembodied hand and raise it up with something that wasn't the Force. He could lay it low. He could move it.

He moved a few candle-flames. Then, he tossed a few objects (nothing fragile or sharp) in his room about with The Force, just to make sure that he still could.

***

Something was causing a commotion on deck. A sense of unease spread throughout the ship. He wasn't even sure that you needed to be Force-sensitive to feel it. It was pretty odious.

It must be the crew, reacting with uncertainty to what Iroh had said. Anakin dragged himself to his feet. He'd disobey orders this once. He had to know if he was in any danger. And if Obi—if Uncle Iroh was in any danger.

He stumbled around, a bit unsteady on his feet. He was on a boat. He did not have his sea legs yet. Everything was made even more difficult by the limitations on his vision. He thought that his eye was mostly healed by now. But he couldn't know for sure with those bandages over it.

He found a metal door, opened it, found himself in a darkened hallway, somehow stumbled across a flight of stairs up, and then he was on deck, basking in blue sky and the sun high above. The sky was very blue. Were all skies that blue?

"Uncle Iroh?" he called, a bit hesitant. There were quite a few people on deck, all told. He was surprised at how many, but not about to count them. He scanned instead for his uncle.

"Prince Zuko! You should not be out of bed," said the old man in red robes, hustling over to him. "You are unwell—"

"The Force is uneasy. Can't you feel it?" he asked, looking around at clear blue sky. "I don't think the crew took your announcement well. I had to make sure that—that you were alright—"

Attachment. Well, but Obi-wan had been _attached_ , too.

 _You were my **brother** , Anakin_— Well, now he's father, brother, and uncle. He's hitting all the elder relationships there. Next he has to be son.

"Force is unsettled. Danger," he managed to say. His head had started to spin. Maybe residual trauma—or—

Wait a minute. He had a fever, didn't he?

"Rest assured, your uncle is safe in our hands, your highness," a man said, coming over to help steady him. Anakin sort of blinked idly at him, not sure what he was seeing. He thought he got the most important part.

He clutched at an arm. "You'll look after Uncle. Make sure no one hurts him?"

"No one on this ship would dare hurt _him,"_ the man said, with a rather fierce smile.

Anakin did not quite notice that the man specified that his _uncle_ would be fine.

Anakin did not fear for himself. He could take care of himself.

He also didn't quite notice how no one seemed to care about him talking about the Force. There were no questions or asking for clarification as to what this "Force" was. He knew that it was because they were dismissing him as feverish and delusional. Somehow, that did not seem to matter very much.

***

When Uncle Iroh unwrapped the bandages after the requisite minimum couple of weeks, he was somewhat alarmed to see how smooth and accelerated the recovery seemed to be. The eye was somehow almost entirely unscathed, even though the eyelid and surrounding area remaining an ominously angry red.

Anakin was not in pain when he opened his left eye, blinking curiously around as if seeing his surroundings for the first time again. He still didn't understand much of what he saw, although Uncle had explained a bit about the history of the Fire Nation, its symbols, and culture. His ear was entirely undamaged, and only the point of impact, where Ozai's hand had rested, remained inflamed and raw.

It was not as bad as Mustafar. Sure, he supposed it damaged his previous good looks, but Anakin was used to hiding inside a suit of black sith armour that made everyone terrified just looking at him. This was nothing. He did have to wonder if the black eye look that lingered around that eye were a natural result of the burning process, or was some sort of symptom of evil magic…sorry, _bending_.

Judging by his uncle's stunned silence, he was not supposed to have healed as well as he had. Still, the fever had bated, he could see and hear just fine, and he could finally get out of bed and start learning firebending. Anakin was not about to complain. Only….

"How did it happen, Uncle?" he asked, reaching up to touch his face. It was tender and raw.

Uncle managed to look even older than usual, and Anakin knew that he wasn't going to like this story. Small wonder that, as Uncle Iroh had put it, his mind had shut out all knowledge and memory of what had happened to protect itself.

It was a horror story. Finally invited to a war council, he had spoken out against a cruel plan from one of the generals to send fresh troops in as cannon fodder against the Earth Kingdom. But his father had viewed this as a shameful act of defiance against himself. Then, the Agni Kai, where he hadn't realised he'd be fighting his own father, who somehow at that time still had his loyalty in spite of it all….

Anakin's fists clenched tightly at his sides as Iroh related the tale with an obviously heavy heart. He had worked very hard, meditating night and day, reining in his anger, knowing as he did the role that his lack of emotional and impulse control had had in his Fall.

But this…this reminded him of _Umbara_. He hadn't been there—he'd let himself be called away. He should have been there. He thought of Rex's shell-shocked, stoic face as he related what Krell had done. He supposed that there were Krells everywhere, throughout the universes, but the parallelism….

He knew that he would've been able to keep quiet. He could just see himself challenge this nightmare of a general to a Duel of Honour. It was well within his character as General Skywalker. If Krell weren't already dead by the time Anakin had been reunited with the 501st, he would have killed him.

He wondered what had become of that sacrificed division.

It took him several minutes to tamp his anger back down. In the meantime, he thought about what to do with the crew whilst Uncle Iroh discussed with him the strangely important options for hairstyles. He settled back into Uncle Iroh's topknot hairstyle, in defiance of his banishment. That defiance took some of the heat from his anger. It showed that he didn't care what this "Fire Lord Ozai" thought of him.

Anakin liked making his statements.

Maybe Zuko did too.

He thought of the 501st, with a pang. Then, he thought of the crew of this ship. They were not clones, bred to obey and to respect him. He would have to earn their confidence.

He could. He knew that he could. Back in the day (in what some twisted part of his mind acknowledged were some of the best days of his old life) he had _earned_ the respect of the men of the 501st. They had been trained to respect and to obey, but not to trust and admire, not as they had. He thought of Fives, whose misplaced trust had cost him his life. He thought of the rumour he'd heard, that a freed Rex, and Ahsoka, had joined the Rebel Alliance. He acknowledged that, in some part of his mind, he could claim credit for this. That he had, before he'd Fallen, inspired greatness in his men. In his padawan.

He had the potential. He could earn these people's trust. He needed only to give them a reason to be loyal, and to show them that he deserved their loyalty. To earn it. To listen. Twenty-odd years as Vader had not destroyed that ability.

***

It was only now that he realised, looking in a mirror, that he was in his early teens. Uncle Iroh told him that he was thirteen. _Thirteen_! Did they really draft children, or was it a royal-family-special-exceptions thing. Kriff, he was younger than Padmé had been when she'd crash-landed on _Tatooine_. Younger than _Snips_ when she'd become his student. He was way too young to be given an impossible task.

Speaking of impossible tasks that he was going to duly disregard because he was no longer evil, how about he get started on winning over the crew? It should be easy enough to isolate the malcontents, as none of them were force-sensitive, nor indeed ever heard of such a thing. They could keep their emotions off their faces, and perhaps school their body language to agree. But the actual emotions themselves? They'd see no need to suppress them. Especially not when, as Uncle Iroh put it, firebending was founded on rage and hatred.

He had apparently been reborn into the sith nation. Or, he would have thought that, if Uncle hadn't whispered an aside, top-secret, that fire was not intended to be destruction. It came from the sun, and symbolised not death and destruction, but life and renewal. The sun caused plants to grow and flourish. It warmed the planet to make it habitable.

Having grown up on Tatooine, Anakin was also aware of its dangers. The sun, and power born of its energy, was always going to be double-edged.

(Speaking of double-edged, he was really going to have to try out those dual swords one of these days. No way were they just there for show. Not if Anakin Skywalker and Zuko were the same person.)

He listened to Uncle explain to him about firebending, blah blah blah, stomach, breath, heat, meditate with candles (tried that), blah, essence of life, blah, dragons—wait, what?

"Dragons?" he repeated. Uncle gave him an I'm-glad-you-were-listening-to-something-I-said look. He explained about dragons, how once they'd run rampant throughout the Fire Nation, but their mutual ancestor, Fire Lord Sozin, had had them hunted to near extinction. The way he described them somehow put Zuko more in mind of the Zillo Beast than anything else. Right down to hunted to extinction, highly intelligent and dangerous, and larger than houses.

After firebending practice, in which Anakin absorbed the basics like a human sponge, which he did not know was considered highly unusual for the Crown Prince, he considered what to do. He was at once surprised and resigned to find that he did not seem to have the energy to do much of anything. Convalescence took a lot out of you. He didn't think he'd get to practicing with those swords today. Might as well introduce himself to the crew.

Lieutenant Jee was the only person whom Uncle Iroh had told about their change in mission. He was also the one who had helped Anakin back to bed in that embarrassing episode when he'd crawled onto the deck thinking that Uncle might be in danger. (Then again, Obi-wan had always seemed to need rescuing.)

Uncle was there to oversee introductions. His poor nephew didn't know any of the customary bows, so he gave a customary _jedi_ bow instead, to one of lower rank, but still respectful. "You must be Lieutenant Jee. I am Prince Zuko. I look forward to working with you on this quest. If you have any problems, please don't hesitate to inform me or my uncle. The crew is a family. We will work things out together. I'm sure I speak for him as well when I say that we value your loyalty and expertise."

That should reassure him that he wasn't about to be Force-choked. Not that he knew what that was, or had any reason to know Vader's reputation. Still. Anakin was on his very best behaviour.

Lieutenant Jee seemed a bit surprised at any acknowledgement of his rank or skill. He seemed to decide on the spot that Prince Zuko might not be an _incorrigibly_ spoilt princeling, and should perhaps be at least given a chance to prove his worth. That meeting went well enough, by Anakin's standards.

But he couldn't just march back and forth in front of a room full of soldiers and give a galvanising speech. This was a different sort of mission, for one, and he didn't have that reputation of a jedi—that he was skilled and wise and knew his poodoo—to help him along. They might not listen at all.

That meant it was time to go below decks and _show_ them that he didn't consider himself to be high and above them, the way some nobles were (like a Hutt). He could think of no better place to start, mentally and physically exhausted as he was, than the engine room. Or whatever it was that made these primitive ships run.

***

There were a few crewmembers in charge of engineering, but the only one who was disinclined towards him was a woman named Atasui. She seemed somewhat scandalised that a royal personage would so debase himself as to condescend to join them in their endeavours…or whatever the hell she was thinking.

She just looked up from wrenches and gauges occasionally to glare at him in what she seemed to think was a subtle way. It might not even have had any malice behind it. She had one of those faces that settled into a glare naturally.

He might be an expert mechanic in a galaxy far, far away, but here he didn't even recognise all the tools. Pipes and gauges were straightforward, and he even recognised a few tools lying around.

They knew that he thought that he was someone other than an exiled prince. Uncle Iroh had said so. And here, in this engine room, it might be easier on everyone involved.

"Hi, I'm Anakin," he said brightly. "Can I help you with anything? I was a pretty good mechanic, back home. And I'm a fast learner."

The chief engineer raised an eyebrow at him, looking back at him through bangs that refused to stay out of her eyes. She didn't seem convinced, but she was not a malcontent, and was willing to give the mysterious exiled prince a shot at it.

"What, you willing to get your hands dirty?" asked the woman Anakin would later learn (in about three seconds) was named Atasui.

"Show some respect, Atasui," said the chief engineer, distracted. Anakin had meanwhile noticed a crack through which white vapour (steam? smoke?) was issuing. His feet contrived to send him towards that pipe without his consent.

Must be steam. Steam was water, and water was—

"What do you do about a cracked pipe like this?" he asked, pointing.

Chief Engineer Hishiko glanced at him, and rolled her eyes. "The Wani is not a ship in prime condition. We'll take care of that crack better when we come into port and can shut down the engines for a while. Use some sealant, for now."

She handed him a jar. "Sanbei!" she called across a mess of pipes and valves. "Haven't you fixed the compressor yet?"

A man twice Zuko's age turned back to face them, and immediately returned to where he was bent over something that Anakin couldn't see from this angle. Part of him itched to go over there and check it out, but the rest of him knew that he didn't have the know-how or built-up trust to go over there and check. He'd start small. He'd start with the cracks.

***

That was not the end of the crew-members Anakin met with that day. He spent several hours happily helping the engineers to fix the ship (and inadvertently teaching them a whole host of new swear words as he did), leaving with a begrudging nod from Atasui, and an almost-proud smile from Hishiko and the relieved Sanbei. Next up was to prove that he knew anything at all about combat with the _soldier_ soldiers.

He did not know anything about firebending, but he knew hand-to-hand combat, and he understood about blasters and lightsabers, which seemed to translate at least into a certain capacity with swords. He thought again of the dual swords in his quarters.

For the moment, he was obliged to beg off actual sparring until he wasn't still weak and feverish from his recent injuries. They didn't have any blasters, but he could appreciate their skill with both firebending and non-. Still, he had little energy to do more than to observe and to introduce himself, hidden away in a corner and cursing his current weakness. He understood that there was still a certain value in his silent presence.

Most of the wariness in the Force stemmed from the combat veterans and new recruits. They didn't know how he was supposed to be, but some of the old hands had heard vague rumours of what had happened to him happening to others (few, it was true) and others seemed to be convinced that bratty laziness was just an intrinsic quality of royalty. These were the ones who were less than pleased by his presence. Although, they did acknowledge, grudgingly, that he was making an effort.

They came to expect him to show up after his lessons. Always he went to check out the engine room, first, so it was unpredictable when he'd arrive in the training salle, but they did come to expect him.

He eventually, as he began to recover, asked polite questions about where they came from and who had taught them. How long had they been serving? This wasn't the job they'd expected, was it? He wheedled away at them in an almost-personable, almost-charming, thoroughly awkward ramble that made them a bit wrong-footed, a bit pitying, and somewhat amused at his antics.

There was a vague air of 501st growing about them. Something he was doing was working. Showing them that he was only human, he supposed, and that he thought of himself as such.

Even though he really wasn't only human. And he couldn't think of himself as such.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter has made you wonder what Zuko remembers...it's not as much as you might think. He knows that there were wars amongst the stars (in another universe). He knows he was a sith, and before that a jedi, and remembers all that those entail. He remembers people important to him, like the 501st, his wife, kids, mom, lack of Dad, Obi-wan, and Ahsoka (and Satine). He remembers a lot of _events_.  
> He forgets the details. So, no, he doesn't remember that there are skies that aren't blue. He doesn't remember that there are planets that are entirely underwater, or frozen in ice. He only remembers Tatooine because...well, it's _Tatooine_. No one forgets that place.
> 
> Also: I know zip about engineering and mechanics. I have no idea how Fire Nation ships run. I just...sort of threw in some stuff and hope that it doesn't ricochet off too many walls or break too much important stuff. Sorry! I'll just avoid the mechanical scenes now that Zuko's met the engineers. (Spoilers (only not really): Atasui changes her mind about him offscreen.)


End file.
